Autumn's Ending
by caffeineaddict13
Summary: It’s not so bad, though. Being normal. Jacob-centric oneshot.


**A/N:** Happy holidays, ya'll. This one's because, frankly, Bella really shouldn't be let off so easy.

--

She says wake up it's no use pretending  
I'll keep stealing breathing her  
Birds are leaving over autumn's ending  
One of us will die inside these arms

– Iron & Wine; _Naked As We Came_

--

She comes back the day before her wedding, her eyes deep-set; mascara tracks over her pale skin.

"I can't do it," she says, automatically leaning in to your chest, shaking with tears that are warm and wet against you. You run your hand through her hair and she looks up, her eyes wide and shining, and before you know it you are kissing – angry, hot, crushing, no air to breathe and only her scent inside of you.

She breaks away and for a second you're both quiet, breaths ragged and quick.

"I…don't know, Jake," she admits, biting her lip. You feel a flash of annoyance that you weren't expecting. "I can't do _that_, either."

You kiss her forehead softly and walk to the door, lifting your shirt over your head and not bothering to take a bag or keys.

"Tell Billy I'll call him," you say, stepping into the grass. You don't look back to see her face – the image has been pressed into your mind since the first day you met her. "And come back when you _do_ know, Bells."

--

A year passes and she hasn't come back.

Vampires have stopped coming to La Push and you rent an apartment in a different part of Washington, where the sun shines occasionally and you're close enough that you don't feel bad about leaving.

She hasn't written you any letters and you haven't used your cell phone since that day, afraid of the words you might say and being desperate and indecisive and in love. It doesn't bother you as much as you would've thought that you have no clue where she is, who she's with – whether she's even still alive.

You think of her constantly, all the same. Your heart hurts but your smile hasn't grown any smaller. You're still the Funny One. Still the Happy One.

There will always be a part of you that no one else will see.

--

Two years go by and still you don't know where she is.

You are beginning to realize that it's just easier to live. You run in human form and you're unbelievably fast, you eat burgers and fries at an old diner with your friends, you open up a garage and fix gorgeous antique cars because you're good at it. You watch stupid guy movies and get pulled into a bar on karaoke night, singing _Hungry Like The Wolf_ in a horrible, off-key voice and _laughing_.

Sometimes people ask about your life back home, and though you continue to visit and make rounds with the pack, none of the younger boys have begun phasing and none of you really believe they will. Even Sam's been going out less – Emily smiles at him and at their children and you realize that this part of your life, which you have built yourself around and worried about and _survived_, is over.

It's not so bad, though. Being normal.

--

It's the five-year mark when you realize how stupid it is that you're counting the passing of time based on the last time you saw her.

Your heart throbs less painfully now, and even though you will never relinquish what you know is love, you also admit that infatuation can sometimes be more dangerous than anyone makes it out to be.

You don't need Billy to agree with you to know that you did the right thing five years ago – for once in your life the _mature_ thing, the _reasonable_ thing. Love isn't always enough, and neither is it always a choice. It's something you have to deal with every day, now, and you aren't afraid of how it all turns out.

You buy a calendar with pictures of motorcycles on it and start remembering the days of the week.

--

Some part of you is expecting it when ten years have gone by and you hear a knock at the door.

You don't bother with pleasantries.

She leans forward and it's warm, familiar even with the years and age and growth, even though her voice is lower and her hair redder; laugh lines appearing in the corners of her eyes that you so desperately needed to see.

It is the twisted-perfect crashing of souls, endless and finite and single – you know now that the greatest thing one can lose is not love, but hope in love. And luckily you kept that all along.

"I know," she says, mumbled words in the darkness of near-morning, warm against your neck.

"Yeah," you breathe. "Me, too."

--

**END**


End file.
